


Violence is (Sometimes) the Answer

by emlee2



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling, Diplomacy, Jealousy, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sparring, They only call each other Honey when they're being saracastic, gratuitous use of pet names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emlee2/pseuds/emlee2
Summary: Shiro and Keith are married, in love, and annoying the hell out of Thace.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	1. One.

They had been there for what felt like hours, in Keith’s opinion. This diplomat, world leader, whatever, has been droning on and on about resources their planet can offer in exchange for the coalition’s support in fending off the remaining factions of loyalist Galra.   
At first, Keith kept himself occupied by analyzing his features and trying to gauge what kind of planet he would be from. Dry, scaly skin suggested that he was an endotherm. He was fine with breathing the Earth atmosphere without a respirator, so definitely some sort of lungs. After a few moments he realized that he was beginning to sound like Romelle when she went on a kick about Earth animal species and stops himself.   
He can’t help the bored fidgeting, though. His leg is bouncing under the table, heel rising and falling rapidly. He keeps moving in his seat, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. Ideally, he would tuck one leg into his chest while the other hangs over the armrest. But he can’t. It isn’t “professional’. He’s resigned to drumming his fingers against the table, inspecting his less than stellar cuticles, the callouses on his hands from countless hours spent training with his blade. He takes a deep breath that was going to be a sigh, but damn it, it just makes him aware of his breathing.   
To his left, Shiro is listening intently, back straight and hands neatly folded on the table in front of him. His posture is open, but authoritative. It’s clear that he could say one word and command the entire room’s attention. He wouldn’t even have to raise his voice, Keith thinks. It’s hot.   
Across the table, Thace is giving him the “Look” that only his mother can do better. It’s almost enough to make him sit still.   
Keith couldn’t possibly care less about the “rare but powerful” fuel sources that they have in their planets core. Ever since a small herd of Balmera had entered the Milky Way, Earth and the Lunar and Mars colonies didn’t have a problem attaining energy. One small crystal could supply an entire city for centuries. The tune that he was tapping out with his stylus against the smooth metal of the table was much more interesting.   
He was just about to enter the second verse when the Diplomat started talking about the expendable population resources that he would be “More than happy to export to Earth for use in the reconstruction efforts!”   
Keith becomes still.   
His fingers stop moving, his heel lays flat on the ground, his spine straightens into perfect posture. His heart is racing and his temperature is climbing, but Keith doesn’t move a muscle.   
Shiro notices and says a quick prayer for the poor bastard that hasn’t stopped talking. Keith straightens his things out, sets his data pad down and clicks the stylus into place, leaning back into his chair,. Shiro smooths down the fabric of his uniform and stands, “I suggest you stop talking.”  
The diplomat turns from the screen that he was pointing at, the cargo transit routes from his planet to the coalition’s main base still displayed, “Excuse me?”   
Keith raises an eyebrow. Shiro resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.   
The diplomat makes the mistake of defending his planet’s use of population resources, “Admiral Shirogane, they are the lesser species, no more than Earth bovine species, they are perfectly content to—” he steps forward, closer to Shiro as he speaks. A mistake in every possible way.   
He is cut off by Keith’s blade pinning his elaborate robes to the chair that he had started the meeting in. “The Admiral told you to stop talking.”   
The alien was shocked, sputtering, “Ex-excuse—”   
“So. You can stop talking, or next time my blade will find a home somewhere far more vulnerable.” Keith promises, his face perfectly passive.   
Shiro lays a hand on Keith’s shoulder, silently giving him his support.   
The senior blade leader does not stand. All attention is focused on him and the room is submerged in anticipatory silence. “Let me be perfectly clear. On Earth and on every planet within the Coalition, slavery in any form is forbidden.” The diplomat opens his mouth and Keith stands and pulls Regris’s blade, which he had been given after his death, from his belt in one perfect motion, “Do not speak.” He spits, vitriol dripping from his words, “All living, breathing, feeling, sentient beings are protected under the treaty of the Coalition. They are NOT expendable resources. Am I understood?”   
The diplomat holds his tongue and nods, the first good decision he has made since he started speaking. Shiro smirks, his heart swelling with intense pride at the leader and diplomat Keith has become.   
He slides his hand down to the small of Keith’s back and looks to Kolivan, “I think we are done here, would you like to carry out the rest of the meeting and deal with our friend here?”   
Kolivan nods, a matching smirk and look of pride on his face, “Of course, Admiral.”   
Shiro smiles, “Great. If you’ll excuse us, my husband and I have to discuss something.”   
Thace coughs, “Bullshit.” Kolivan kicks him under the table.   
Shiro leads Keith out of the war room, mindful of how Keith is still shaking with rage.   
The moment the door slides shut behind them, Keith is set in motion. His hands fly up to his face as he speaks, gesticulating faster than Shiro could hope to keep up with, “Do you fucking believe that? That he just— he just offered living beings to us! Like they’re fucking— fucking goods! That he can just trade! Oh god Shiro do not let me go near him again I think I might kill him myself.” Keith turns with his eyes wide, “Shiro I threw my blade at him.”   
“Yes,” Shiro laughs, “You did.”   
“It’s not funny!” Keith shouts, but he’s already laughing as he pulls a hand through his hair.   
Shiro leans forward and kisses him, a soft peck turning into something heated and deep, “You’re right,” Shiro rests his hands on Keith’s hips and squeezes, “It was hot as hell.”   
“Oh?” Keith says against Shiro’s lips, “So you think- mmh- that me- mm- me getting mad about —mmshiro c’mon- slavery is hot?”   
Shiro rests is forehead against Keith’s and pouts. “Well when you put it like that.”   
“I can get mad about other things?” Keith offers, slinging his arms around the back of Shiro’s neck and pulling him into another kiss, the a smile spreading over his lips.   
Shiro picks Keith up and wraps his legs around his waist, hands firmly settled against his ass, “Lets go get mad in private, okay?”   
“Shiro wait! My blade is still in there!” Keith says, laughing and kicking his legs in protest.   
But Shiro is already marching towards their private quarters, asking ATLAS to rearrange some hallways to make the journey faster. “As long as it’s not in his chest you can get it later.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Allura realizes that she needs to start informing the guests that the Admiral and Blade Leader are married and flirting with either one of them WILL lead to an intergalactic incident.

The ballroom is packed. Everyone was invited. Shiro looks around over his glass of champagne, over the heads of the circle of dignitaries trying to gain his ear, and wonders how Allura managed to invite everyone. He’s impressed, if not a healthy level of terrified.   
Shiro is used to this by now, being thrown to the wolves in favor of forming alliances beyond the war room, but right now he just wanted to steal some time with his husband. As much as Allura tried to clear schedules on the day of a ball, there wasn’t much she could do for the Admiral. He was lucky to have an hour to himself, much less a whole day.   
He had gone from a meeting to his and Keith’s private quarters, thrown on a suit, shaved, and arrived within 30 minutes of the start of the party. He had to move some of ATLAS’s hallways around and had been caught with shaving cream on his cheek, which Thace helpfully pointed out, but he made it.   
When he walked into the hall, which was laden with juniberry flowers, thanks to Allura, he set out to find Keith. As he he started to walk through the groups of people, he was pulled into conversation and cemented into place with the same group that he had spent hours explaining fossil fuels to that morning. It seems that the nunvil in their hands had made them especially friendly, or at least unaware of personal space, as they crowded into Shiro’s space.   
The exact moment that a dignitary laid a three-fingered hand against Shiro’s chest in a far more than friendly gesture was the moment that Keith sidled up to him and implanted himself firmly against Shiro’s side. “Hi honey,” he said, saccharine and absolutely staking his claim. It made Shiro blush beneath his collar.   
Keith walked his fingers up the crisp lines of his formal uniform, flicking the offending hand away so that he could straighten Shiro’s ribbons and medals. His other hand is sliding down, down, down-   
Shiro stands up straight when it reaches its target, coughing into his hand, “Uh, excuse me, my husband and I have to go, uh. Discuss. Something.”   
Keith nods his head solemnly, eyes roving over the circle and challenging anyone to call Shiro’s bullshit.   
No one does.   
Shiro takes his hand and pulls him along, away from the center of the ballroom until they have the relative privacy of being behind a column, “What was that?!” He hisses, looking up and smiling at some sort of general giving them a strange look.   
Keith sticks out his lower lip, looking up at Shiro through dark lashes, “What are you talking about, honey?”   
Shiro braces an arm against the column, caging his husband in, “You know what I’m talking about.”   
Keith looks around, “Uhh- no? No, I don’t think I do, honey.”   
The admiral clicks his tongue against his teeth, pushing off from the wall. “No? Okay, honey, I’m going to go back to work. Behave yourself.”   
Keith smirks, pushing off the wall to press a chaste kiss to Shiro’s lips, “No promises, honey.”  
Before Shiro can gather his thoughts, Keith saunters away from him. Every fiber of Keith’s being is screaming at him to turn around, to look at Shiro and make sure he’s watching him walk away, but he keeps his head straight. He plucks a glass of champagne from a tray and slides his way into conversation between Thace and a small group of humanoids from the Kipling galaxy.   
They’re all varying shades of blue, with green veins beneath their almost translucent skin. Four eyes on each face blink at him, and he realizes that he has failed to introduce himself, “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is-“  
The tallest of the bunch interrupts him politely, “Blade Leader and Black Paladin Keith Kogane, yes. We know who you are.”   
“Oh.” Keith says, fighting down a blush, “I hadn’t realized, I’m sorry.”   
Thace rolls his eyes, not worrying about coming off as rude because all attention is clearly on Keith.   
The tall one laughs, a pleasantly deep sound, “My name is Inkris, from Alryia of the Kipling galaxy. This is Cielit, Noquis, and Meina, my advisors.” He extends a hand to Keith, only to leave him blushing when he lays a gentle kiss against his knuckles.   
“A pleasure to meet you, Inkris,” Keith says, trying to find his voice as he returns his hand to his side.  
Thace coughs, “prince.”   
Keith’s eyes go wide as he looks between the two of them, “Prince Inkris?”   
“There’s no need for such titles, really. The pleasure of your company is more than enough.”   
Thace grabs a glass of nunvil that is passing by. Keith smiles, “Is that so? Hm. How long have you been in the Coalition?”   
“We joined with the second wave, after the assault on Earth.”   
Cielit speaks from the princes side, her voice lilting and sweet, “Inkris just wanted to see the paladins up close, what with how obsessed he was with The Voltron Show.”  
He smiles and pushes a long strand of white hair behind a pointed ear, “What can I say, I’m a man of good taste.”   
Keith laughs, “I’ll be sure to let Coran know, he’ll be quite pleased to meet a fan.”   
“A fan, yes,” Inkris looks down at his feet and Meina leans against him in a nudge, “Though, I don’t recall seeing you in any of the recordings?”  
Keith’s cheeks hurt from smiling and he is perfectly oblivious to the way that Shiro is glaring a hole in the back of his neck from his own circle, “I had been with the Blade of Marmora when the Voltron Show was in it’s prime, sorry.”   
“I knew I would have remembered such a face,” the Prince offers. Thace walks away entirely, narrowly abstaining from throwing his hands in the air.   
Shiro’s jaw drops when the tall blue alien takes Keith’s hand and Keith lets him. Allura walks past him and taps his chin before carrying on with her hostessing duties. Seeing Keith whirling around the ballroom in an elaborate dance, laughing as he’s practically carried across the floor because years of elegant sparring has done nothing for his two left feet, puts something vile in the pit of Shiro’s stomach. Something that whispers in his ear, That should be us. The voice is interrupted by the tinkling of Shiro’s champagne glass, what’s left of it, hitting the floor. Before he can even gather his bearings to ask for help, someone is sweeping up the mess.  
Shiro’s field of vision is interrupted by Thace, who is already replacing the champagne glass with a full one. “I hadn’t realized that Keith was so keen on absolutely ridiculous and- what’s the Earth term?- cheesy advances.” Thace’s face is twisted into a grimace around the words.   
“He’s not.” Shiro deadpans.   
Thace hums, hand behind his back as he surveys the ballroom, an old habit from years of intelligence. “Well. I am going to rescue my husband. Seems Slav got a hold of Ulaz again. I suggest you do the same, Admiral.”   
Shiro scoffs, Keith knows exactly who he’s going home to at the end of the night.   
But the princeling doesn’t, the voice coos. Shiro has the consciousness to stop himself from shattering another flute this time around. Instead, he hands it off to Iverson, who gives him an all-too-knowing grin before Shiro heads off. The dance is almost over, the strings coming to a quiet end under the arches at the front of the ballroom.   
Before the princeling can ask for another, Shiro taps him on the shoulder, “May I cut in?” He smiles, a tiny bow to his frame in an attempt at courtesy.   
“Hi honey.” Keith states, endearment and annoyance both present in his tone.   
“Hello, my stars.” He emphasizes the ‘my’, but Shiro’s features soften at Keith before returning a quizzical brow to the blue alien before him.   
His features turn to a deep shade of green, spread over his cheeks and ears. “Of course, Admiral Shirogane."   
“Great. Thanks.” Shiro drops the act and sweeps Keith away in a waltz that Allura demanded he learn for these events.   
“I know what you’re doing, honey.” Shiro whispers, keepi ng a smile on his face.   
“Making connections with members of the Coalition, honey.” Keith’s expression matches Shiro’s perfectly.   
“Is that so?” Shiro dips Keith so low that his intricate braid, courtesy of Romelle, drags on the ground. “And it has nothing to do with my attempt to placate the Mangurnians?”   
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Keith spins away from Shiro, Shiro pulls him back in so that his back is pressed in a tight line to his chest. He should have let go and returned to the box step, but he leans down to Keith’s ear and whispers beneath the din of the music and chatter, “How about I take you to the coat closet and remind you.”   
Keith shudders, “Sounds perfect.”   
Shiro releases him and they continue to sway through the room, more of a pulling along by the Admiral and an attempt at following from the Senior Blade.   
The moment the song ends, they disappear for the rest of the night.   
Allura shakes her head when she catches sight of them sneaking out from the coat closet, Keith wearing Shiro’s jacket and Shiro with Keith’s tunic tied around his waist. Thace sidles up beside her, “Kids.”   
“Make sure Keith has extra laps to run tomorrow.”   
“Yes ma’am.”


	3. Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro and Keith abuse the training room.

For once, Keith isn’t the one going too hard at the training droids. Shiro is advancing on the droid, leveling attack after attack against it. He’s all brute force, but there’s an elegance to the way he moves that makes Keith a little light headed.   
They’re both using staffs, the clanging of each blow echoes throughout the training hall. Shiro’s breath is even and his motions are fluid, but from the dark patch on the back of his t-shirt he’s been here for quite awhile.   
Keith is about to call for the droid to pause simulation when Shiro slides beneath it, staff braced against his shoulders, and sweeps its legs out from underneath it. He rolls against his momentum, feet coming over his head in a way that makes Keith’s abs hurt just to think about, and he presses his hands to the ground as he comes to a stand, staff swinging to pin the droid by its neck.   
Keith’s dick absolutely did not twitch.   
Shiro stands, “End simulation,” his voice carries through the room and it sends a shiver down Keith’s spine.   
When he lifts his shirt to wipe away the sweat on his forehead, Keith whistles and claps his hands. “Y’know I came here for a sparring session but I’m starting to reconsider.”   
Shiro jumps, twisting around at the sound of Keith’s voice, “How long have you been standing there.”   
“Long enough to be more than a little turned on.” “So… you didn’t see the droid take me down?”  
“What?”  
Shiro reaches for Keith’s waist, warm fingers sliding beneath his shirt to trace the lines of muscle. “Nothing,” he whispers through a smile, leaning in to kiss Keith gently. Its a stark contrast to the brute force that he had just unwittingly demonstrated for Keith.   
Keith pulls him in with a hand on the back of his neck, making an attempt to deepen the kiss, but Shiro pulls back, “No. No absolutely not.”   
“Whaat?” Keith whines, chasing Shiro’s lips.   
Shiro evades him, jerking his head back every time Keith gets too close, “The last time we… fooled around in here, Kolivan and Ulaz walked in and I am not getting caught like that again.”  
Keith rolls his eyes, “You weren’t the one with your pants off. I don’t see the problem here.” His other hand slides beneath the waistband of Shiro’s joggers, grabbing a handful of his ass and making Shiro melt just a little. Enough for Keith to steal another kiss.   
He almost has him, but then Shiro’s prosthetic pushes Keith away and holds him at bay, a safe distance from where Keith was getting just a little too handsy. It makes the blade pout, lip jutting out and brow furrowed like a kitten that has been told off.   
“Don’t look at me like that,” Shiro groans, pulling a hand through his hair.   
“Like what.”   
“Like THAT, baby.”   
“Then kiss me.”   
“Keith.”  
“Sir.”  
Shiro’s jaw drops. That was a low blow and Keith knows it, if the wicked grin on his face is anything to go by. “Fine. Tell you what. You win this sparring match, I’ll take you right here.”   
Keith grins, “Let’s go Old Timer. I’m gonna kick your ass.”   
“Hold on now. If I win, I get to take you apart as slowly as I’d like tonight and you’re not allowed to complain at all.”   
Keith is already stripping his top layer off, “Yeah whatever its not like you’re going to win. Let’s go. I’m ready.”   
Shiro grabs his water bottle off the bench and takes a long pull, some of the water trickling down the sharp line of his jaw and into the hollow of his collar bone. Keith’s mouth is suddenly very dry.   
After he sets the bottle down, he looks down at his shirt in disdain, pretending to be upset by how wet it has become. As Keith is rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands, Shiro pulls the shirt over his head and discards it. And now Keith is about to start drooling.   
He coos, “You ready, baby?”   
Keith raises his guard and shifts his stance, “Born ready, sir.”   
“Brat.” Shiro lunges at Keith, anticipating his evasion by tucking the shoulder directed at Keith’s chest into a roll. As he goes down, he catches Keith’s waist with a leg but the smaller man just twists out of his grip. Keith is still standing, hands held in front of him in a defensive, while Shiro is crouched low to the ground. “You aren’t tired, are you sir?” He feigns sweetness as a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.   
“You know my stamina, baby. I can do this all day.”   
Shiro makes another pass at Keith, but this time he leads with a a kick, hoping that Keith will try to block high when Shiro drops the kick to his side.   
He evades instead, dropping to the ground and sliding between Shiro’s stance. He has always moved fast, using his smaller stature to his advantage against opponents that were twice Shiro’s size and strength. What he lacked in size or strength he made up for in speed and agility. But after being sparring partners for years, Shiro could still pick apart his tells.   
When Keith came to his feet behind him, Shiro kicked his legs back and sent Keith to the ground with a thud. In the same motion, he pinned a wrist above his head, the other pinned between Keith’s back and the mat.   
“Yield?” Shiro’s eyes were sparkling, knowing full well that Keith wouldn’t be ready to give in just yet.   
“In your dreams,” Keith grunted, pulling a leg free before Shiro could think to pin them, using it to flip the hold.   
A lean thigh pressed against Shiro’s cock and he groaned, “Thats cheating, you brat.”   
“Its not cheating if I win,” Keith grins. Shiro forces himself to relax, going limp beneath Keith. Watching his eyes widen in surprise makes it all the more satisfying when Shiro bucks his hips up and throws Keith over his head.   
Shiro lets Keith come into his space, lets him stand and dig his heels in as he dives for the admiral’s waist in an attempt to get him back on the ground in a grapple. When Keith gets moving like that, when he loses his connection with the ground, all it takes is Shiro digging in and being the immovable object in his path. Keith’s shoulder hits first and Shiro grunts at the impact, but Keith’s legs keep moving as his center of gravity adjusts. His knees drag along the mat and Shiro presses forward, pinning Keith by his shoulders.   
Keith huffs, “Asshole.”  
“Brat.” There’s no venom in either of their tones. Keith’s breath comes fast underneath him, and shiro is distracted for half a second by how perfect his lips look. Keith uses the opportunity to twist his hips in an attempt to free his legs, but as soon as he gets half way through the maneuver Shiro pins them with his own. He switches his hold on Keiths shoulders so that his prosthetic holds Keith’s wrists out in front of him.   
“So how about that yield, baby boy?”   
Keith squirms beneath the firm line of Shiro’s chest against his back, consequently rubbing his ass against the very apparent hard on that Shiro has been sporting.   
Shiro ignores him in favor of tightening the hold on Keith’s wrist and grabbing his chin with his free hand so that Keith has to look him in the eye when he says it.   
“C’mon sweetheart,” he goads, “Just one little word for me.”   
His husband rolls his eyes, “Yield.”   
Shiro presses a sweet kiss to his lips, “Good boy.”   
“Whatever,” Keith murmurs indignantly, looking anywhere but Shiro’s eyes.   
Shiro releases his chin and swats Keith’s ass, “Watch your tone.” He frees Keith’s wrists in favor of flipping Keith onto his back, pressing him into the mat for a heated kiss. Keith is still keyed up from the spar, nipping at Shiro’s lips and digging his fingertips into Shiro’s shoulder as he rolls his hips up.   
“Baby,” Shiro warns, sliding his hands over Keith’s thighs as he wraps them around his waist, “Slow down.”   
Keith pulls back, pupils dilated and face flushed, “I’ll pass.” He surges up to capture Shiro’s lips and twist his fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make his scalp sting. Shiro rolls his hips down against Keith, drawing out a moan between their lips.   
The exact moment that Shiro’s hands find their way beneath Keith’s shirt, the doors to the training hall slide open.   
They break apart , Keith tilting his head back while Shiro stares guiltily.   
Kolivan crosses his arms over his chest, brow raised in accusation. Thace comes in behind him, stopping in the middle of whatever he was talking about to throw his hands up in exasperation, “Do you two not have a ROOM that you can fuck in?! This is your damn ship, Shiro, make one!”   
Shiro stands, head hung low. “Sorry, sir,” He says, feeling very much like a chastised child.   
“And YOU,” Thace starts, pointing at Keith as Shiro helps him to his feet, “For someone who was so squeamish about post mission bonding, you sure have a penchant for fucking in public spaces! What is that!”   
Kolivan is smiling, despite a poor attempt at hiding it. He always did enjoy when Thace finally went over the edge like this. Keith’s ears are bright red in embarrassment, having the decency to look sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck.   
Thace pinches the bridge of his nose and Kolivan rests a hand on his shoulder. He jerks his chin to the door and Keith grabs Shiro’s hand to pull him out of the training hall as fast as possible.  
Kolivan shakes his head at their laughter from down the corridor and squeezes Thace’s shoulder, “I seem to recall walking in on you, Ulaz, and Antok a few times in the training room.”   
Thace pulls his hand away from his face and gives Kolivan a disdainful look, “That’s different.”   
“Why, because you wished me to join?” Kolivan deadpans, the closest he’ll ever get to teasing.   
Thace shrugs and purses his lips, “Well for starters, yeah.”   
The leader of the blades barks out a laugh, “Make sure they didn’t leave a mess on the mats before anyone else gets here.”


	4. Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro has a crisis over Keith working with kids while wearing tight leggings.

Watching Keith work was the best thing that could have come out of the war. Despite his resistance to stepping up as the black paladin, he took to leadership like a fish to water. With the Blade of Marmora’s conversion from intelligence to humanitarian aid in the past few years, Keith has led countless rehabilitation efforts on planets that were damaged as a result of the war.   
Occasionally Shiro gets to come along for the ride, finding a stretch of time where meetings can go on without him so that he can hop in a fighter and help Keith guide cargo to the next planet.   
As much as Shiro loved flying with Keith, talking back and forth and trying to out do each other with deep space flight maneuvers, his favorite part was distribution. Keith’s, too, if the permanent smile on his face is anything to go by.   
The way he plays with the kids on every planet before setting up, showing them tricks with his blade and telling them the story of the food-goo fight that brought the team together always makes Shiro’s heart thump in his chest. Every single planet, every single civilization, no matter how traumatized the war has left them, Keith manages to bring at least a little bit of joy back to them. And every time he ends up with a little fan club following him around until he asks them to help with moving supplies.   
When he leaned down to the little Galran children, refugees from Daibazaal that had settled on an uninhabited planet, and asked them if they could help, they practically leapt into the boxes to move the supplies. Shiro watched from the gate of the cargo ship as Keith jogged to catch up with them, plucking the smallest of their little crew from a box that he had been stuck in and placing him on his shoulders. They started running back in forth from the ship to the distribution center with as much as their little arms could carry, Keith giving them gentle direction as to where exactly things belong.   
Shiro comes over with the last of the shipment and kisses Keith on the cheek before addressing the child on his shoulders, “Are you looking after my husband for me?”   
“Yes sir!” The little girl answers, sitting up straight.   
“Great job, cadet,” Shiro ruffles her hair and turns his head back to Keith, “You wanna stay the night? I have some time before I have to be back.”  
Keith lifts the child from his shoulders, sending her off to play with her friends, “No, its okay. I have to get ready to head out to the Thaldycon system by the end of the week.”   
Shiro pulls him in for a hug, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “Sounds good to me. What do I need to do?”   
“Help me get those boxes up to distribution? The kids tried but it was a little much even if Ladnok has super strength.” Keith smiles around the words, looking for them over his shoulder.   
“If his super strength isn’t enough, how ever will I lift it?” Shiro asks incredulously, pressing a hand over his heart.   
Keith steps away from the hug, making a show of pushing up his sleeves and flexing as he walks over to the rest of the shipment. He leans over to lift a box and Shiro is thoroughly distracted when his tunic slides to the side, revealing just how tight Keith’s leggings are over his perfect, mouth watering-   
Keith interrupts his reverie with a whistle, laughing at Shiro, “Are you going to stare or are you going to help?”   
Shiro shrugs, “Can’t I do both?”   
“Get to work, cadet.” Keith teases. Shiro had made the joke long ago that when he was with the blades, he was technically Keith’s subordinate. At the time, it made Keith’s eyes darken before he fucked Shiro senselessly. The thought really isn’t helping Shiro’s current situation.   
“Yes, sir.” Shiro taunts back, stepping in Keith’s path to steal a kiss over the crate he’s carrying.   
“This is insubordination,” Keith grins.   
“Don’t worry about it, I’m married to the Blade Leader,” Shiro shoots back, still very much in Keith’s way.   
“The Blade Leader is considering your disciplinary process as we speak,” Keith leans in for another kiss, using the distraction to check Shiro with the box and march onward, “Move it, cadet.”   
Shiro laughs, picking up another crate to follow Keith’s lead.   
It takes a few hours for them to finish the process of dividing the supplies among the population and swing by the hospital to make sure that they have everything they need as well. Keith stops by the council office to say hello to his primary contact, exchanging a few pleasantries and a warm hug. Shiro’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but the feeling of pride swelling in his chest is more than enough to make up for it. Keith has come so far, growing out of the kid who was angry at the world and into a kind leader that worries about everyone else, makes sure that everyone has what they need to thrive before ever sparing a thought for himself.   
When Keith comes back to him, he slings an arm around his shoulder.   
Keith’s hand slides into his back pocket and he tilts his face up, “You ready to go home?”  
The sun is setting and Keith’s face is lit in its warm glow making Shiro’s heart leap into his throat, “Of course.”   
They walk like that back to the landing site, trading stories about their day. While Shiro was in the main distribution center, Keith had gone off to take toys to the orphanage that he had been in contact with and ended up being pulled into a story time. At one point, three of the younger kids had fallen asleep on him and trapped Keith even longer because he was so afraid of waking them up.   
Shiro, on the other hand, had spent some of his time flying the kiddos in little circles on his arm. Keith busted out laughing, “Remember when Pidge asked if you would fly her around?”   
“I am not a human transit system!” Shiro laughed, his ears coloring at the memory.   
Keith elbowed him in the ribs, “No, but you wanted to know just as badly.”   
Shiro sticks his nose up in the ear, peering at Keith from the corner of his eye, “I was testing the extent of Altean technology.”   
“Uh huh, sure you were.”   
When they reach their fighters, they find the cargo crew has decided to stay another night, something about a family member being on planet and catching up. Keith offers to send a skeleton crew once they get back to ATLAS and says a few goodbyes.   
As he’s climbing into the cockpit of his jet, he pauses. “Shiro!” He shouts, hanging off the ladder.   
Shiro perks up, “What’s up, baby?”   
The smirk on Keith’s face is nothing but trouble. “Race you back?”   
“You’re on.” Shiro jumps into the cockpit, pulling the roof over his head and flying through take off protocols. When he looks over, Keith is adjusting his flight mask as he does the same, flipping switches with one hand and securing his gear with the other. He looks over at Shiro and winks before pushing the throttle down as he takes off from the tiny runway that they made upon landing.   
On the ground, his tiny fan club collectively drop their jaws, waving frantically after Keith’s jet.  
Shiro follows suit and chases Keith’s trails, already planning his flight path to make up the distance that Keith has put between them.   
They had passed through an asteroid belt just outside of the Milky Way that Shiro knew could be used to slow Keith down if he played his cards right. It was just a matter of letting Keith get comfortable enough before pushing him into over-maneuvering.   
The moment he started coasting, though, Keith knew what his plan was. And he was having none of it. Keith pushed the throttle as hard as he could before hopping on the comms, “Honey, I hope you realize that I’ve flown through that belt more times in the last year than you have in your life.”   
Shiro grinned, “Is that so, honey? Well I guess you have nothing to worry about.”   
Keith hums over the comm, but continues to push his jet, “What are we playing for, by the way?”   
“I don’t know, what would you be willing to give me when I win?” Shiro taunts him, the smirk evident in his tone.   
“For as much as you call me a brat, you fit the definition a hell of a lot better, honey.”   
Shiro laughs and Keith longs to be able to look at him. He’s still giggling when he speaks up, “Fine fine. How about you cook me Mac n Cheese when I win. But if you’re feeling sore I can make some steaks with that rub that Hunk gave us?”   
“Steak dinner when I win, works for me.”   
They hang a turn when the edges of the belt are in sight, still bantering back and forth as they go.   
All of the sudden, Keith goes silent. “Shiro did you-”  
Out of Shiro’s periphery he sees the ripple of a cloaking shadow, “I see it.”   
“Convert your gear to deep space, in case they advance,” Keith’s tone has lost all of its playfulness, ready to engage at the drop of a hat.   
“Already on it. Your long range clear?” Shiro slows his engine to match Keith’s decrease in speed. Nothing drastic enough to give away that he and Keith have noticed their newfound company.   
“Affirmative. Shorts clear?”  
“Affirmative. Anything on your radar yet?”  
“Negative. Converting to IR,” Keith pauses, “Looks like there’s four, no five, scattered behind entry point to the belt.”   
“Any way we can go around them?”   
“Negative. Do you want to try and open comms?”   
Shiro considers, “Let’s hold off for now. See how this goes.”  
Keith takes a steadying breath, “Okay. Let’s go.”   
They push their engines once more, gaining speed at the same rate.   
The moment that they’re within range of the belt, the ships in hiding drop their cloaking.   
Keith hisses, “Those are loyalist ships. We’re going to have to engage.”   
Shiro takes a breath, “Okay let’s do this. You go over them, I’ll flank left.”   
“Yes, sir.”  
They break from formation just as the ships start firing on them. Nothing more than blasters as of yet, but Shiro goes over comms, “Any ion cannons?”   
“Negative, looks like they’re three fighters, an old command ship, and a modified cargo.”  
Keith twists around an asteroid when one of the fighters locks onto him as a target, taking shelter behind it. Shiro is dealing with a fighter of his own and the third is moving toward him. “There’s one on your six and one coming for your four,” Keith says, trying to lock a target. The moment his routing flashes red he opens fire, a burst of light illuminating the asteroid belt, “Scratch that, one coming for your four.”   
“Thanks baby.” Shiro says, tilting the nose of his jet to loop over an asteroid and open fire while he’s still upside down. Keith returns his attention to the asteroid he’s hiding behind, which is rapidly falling apart as the fighter opens fire on it.   
He pushes the throttle and flies underneath the asteroid, taking advantage of the fact that the fighter is going to continue firing on it until it’s gone. Keith takes a shot at the fuel tank and hits it on the first try.   
Shiro comes over the comms again “I saw that.”   
“Was good, yeah?” Keith says, far too cocky for someone who was in the midst of the battle.   
It comes back to bite him when the command ship lands a hit and Keith’s face smashes into his dashboard. The taste of iron is heavy in his mouth and Shiro is loud in his helmet, “Keith! KEITH! Sound off! Keith, sound off!”   
Keith can’t tell if his ears are ringing from the volume of Shiro’s voice or from the blast, but he really doesn’t care either way. Now he’s just pissed off.   
Shiro on the other hand, takes out the fighter and damages the cargo ship enough that it won’t go anywhere any time soon in one fell swoop. Turning his attention to the command ship and Keith.   
“Keith you reckless little shit SOUND OFF.” He’s worried. Keith’s ship is in tact for the most part, a panel missing and the entire thing is scorched to hell, the cockpit is holding on.   
The command ship is working on firing again, this time at Shiro, but he doesn’t notice until the last second. The blast clips a wing and sends Shiro spinning, knocking his head against the side of the cockpit, but not before Shiro can target its fuel cell and the entire ship crashes in to an asteroid.   
“That was pretty hot, not gonna lie.” Keith says, voice groggy.   
“I swear to god are you ever going to stop scaring me like that?!” Shiro shouts, bringing his jet next to Keith’s.  
“Probably not. Especially if you keep doing hot shit when I do scare you.”   
“Get back to ATLAS,” Shiro commands, “You’re making me Mac n Cheese for that.”   
Keith rolls his eyes, “Yes, sir.”   
They limp back to ATLAS, crew members flooding the hangar when they see the condition of the Admiral’s and the Blade Leader’s jets. As soon as they land, people set to work trying to figure out exactly what needs to be repaired. Shiro is briefing someone about what happened while he runs through landing protocols, helmet tucked under his shoulder as he disembarks.   
Keith, on the other hand, is climbing out of the jet and completely ignoring the poor cadet assigned to take his report, flinging his helmet into his seat and jumping out of the plane like there isn’t a perfectly good ladder for him to climb down.   
He takes off across the hangar to where Shiro is talking to someone, looking ridiculously perfect with his flight suit tied around his waist, even if there’s blood dripping down his face and soot all over his nose. Shiro stops mid sentence when he catches sight of his husband barreling towards him and Keith breaks out into a smile, feeling his lip split open where the blood had dried.   
He surges forward and pulls Shiro into a toe curling kiss, ignoring how badly his lip stings and the fact that Shiro kind of stinks because his hands are pulling Keith in and he’s still over-warm from the adrenaline rush.   
“I love you,” Keith says against his lips.  
“I love you,” Shiro whispers back, both completely oblivious to the poor crew member still waiting for the rest of Shiro’s report.   
Keith’s hands slide beneath Shiro’s flight suit, sliding into his back pockets once more, “That was fucking hot.” He says when they finally break apart.   
Shiro smiles, “Yeah?”   
Keith kisses him again, “Mhm.”   
Out of nowhere, Keith feels a thunk on the back of his head.   
Thace is standing in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, “Seriously?”   
Keith leans in for another kiss, “We’re having a moment.”   
The older blade grabs Keith by the collar of his flight suit and lifts him into the air, “Infirmary. Now.” He growls. Keith looks like a petulant kit when he crosses his arms and pouts at having their ‘moment’ interrupted, but ultimately stalks off.   
Shiro is still looking dazed and obnoxiously smitten. Thace has had enough with these two, “You, too, Admiral. Go to the infirmary and get that looked at.” He nods to the wound on Shiro’s cheek.   
Shiro snaps to attention, clearing with his throat with a cough. “Of course,” he says, jogging after Keith.   
Thace looks after them, leaning towards the crew member that has resigned himself to getting the rest of the Admiral’s report tomorrow, “Sometimes I really can’t believe that they saved the universe.”   
“I would agree, but I'm sure that would be insubordination.” He says, turning on his heel.  
Thace laughs, heading for the infirmary to make sure that the Admiral and blade actually went there instead of finding a closet to fuck in along the way.


	5. Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro and Keith are tired and Kosmo is Not Amused.

In the midst of incorporating a system of planets that already have their own treaties and laws, Shiro and Keith have been neglecting sleep, among other things. They spend their mornings in meetings with the Coalition and the Blades, afternoons in meetings with diplomats and representatives from the system, and evenings making every effort to solidify the alliances outside of the conference halls.   
Shiro is used to it, having spent so much time representing the Garrison before the Kerberos mission, then Voltron during the war, then ATLAS and the coalition after it. Keith, on the other hand, is wildly uncomfortable trying to say the right thing at the right time because lives are stake.   
He says this while he and Shiro are getting ready for bed, both of them brushing their teeth blearily while Kosmo runs between their legs, something entirely unreasonable within the right space of the bathroom and given Kosmo’s size.   
(The wolf sticks his nose against Keith’s legs while he begs for another walk before going to bed. He looks to Shiro, who shrugs in an apology. When he realizes that there will be no more walks, he growls and poofs out of the room to look for more snacks.)  
Keith pads over to his night stand, setting his alarm for the morning and turning the ringer off on his data pad, “I just. It’s so high stakes I don’t know how to not piss everyone off. I’m not cut out for diplomacy the way that you and Allura and Hunk are.”   
Shiro stands beside the bed, looking something over on his own data pad, “Keith how many missions have you gone on that were high stakes?”  
Keith flips the switch on his lamp, pulling the duvet back to climb under the sheets, “Thats different. On missions I’m just Keith. Leader if you’re really pushing it.”  
He whistles and Kosmo pops into their room with a burst of ozone.   
“You’re not just Keith, though,” Shiro says, he sounds far away as he hums at some message that a bridge crew member sent him. It’s something that could wait until the morning, when Shiro doesn’t have to read the same sentence three times over to understand what it means.   
He stops and looks up at his husband, who is currently fighting with the pillow to make it the perfect shape for sleeping while Kosmo does the same to the sheets beside Keith’s legs. It’s hopelessly endearing to see them so oblivious to each other like this, “You’re one of the highest ranking leaders of the Blade of Marmora, the black and the red Paladin of Voltron, and you hold a seat within the Coalition convention,” Shiro sighs and sets the data table down on his nightstand as he climbs into bed, “You’re Keith.” Keith stares up at the ceiling as Shiro cards a hand through his hair, “Don’t think of the number of lives that will be impacted by one conversation. Think of the individual faces that you’ve met and how you want their lives to be better.”   
Keith lifts his hand to settle it over Shiro’s as it rests against his cheek, eyes finding Shiro’s through thick lashes, “What if I mess it all up and offend someone and the alliance doesn’t join the Coalition?”   
Kosmo whines and rests his head on Keith’s thigh in an act of moral support.   
Shiro twists around to flip his own lamp off, submerging their bedroom in darkness save for the light of their alarm clocks. He lays back down and wraps Keith in his arms, squeezing him close, “You won’t.”   
“How do you know?” Keith asks, eyes filled with conflict and question.   
“Because you’re Keith.”   
A few moments pass with Shiro stroking Keith’s hair, freeing it from the braid that Keith has taken to wearing. Keith shifts to twist their legs together and Shiro is reminded of the conversation they had that morning, “Keith?”   
“hm?”   
“Do you still wanna..?”  
Kosmo growls from the end of the bed, reminding Shiro of his presence.   
Keith doesn’t lift his head, “What?”  
“This morning?”  
Keith rubs his nose against Shiro’s chest and squeezes him just a little, “Oh. Go ahead.”   
“What?” Shiro asks, voice tilting up an octave.   
“‘M sleepy go ahead.”   
The space wolf huffs in annoyance, lifting his head to glare at Shiro. He just made the bed comfortable enough to sleep.   
“Nevermind.” Shiro pouts, realizing that he is just as tired as Keith as he curls against his husband further.   
“Lame,” Keith breathes out against his chest, “Might’ve been hot.”   
Shiro rolls his eyes and presses a kiss against the top of Keith’s head. Seconds later, Keith is snoring softly. 

—

Come the morning, Kosmo is prancing around the room, celebrating breakfast while Keith holds a cup of coffee under Shiro’s nose to get him out of bed, “C’mon lazy bones we have work to do.”   
Shiro sits up and slouches on the edge of the bed, holding the coffee in a vice. Keith has already taken Kosmo for a run and made it through at least two cups of coffee if they’re both this chipper. Kosmo rests his head in Shiro’s lap and licks the mug before sticking his cold nose in Shiro’s elbow.   
Shiro loves his husband. He would go to the ends of the universe and beyond for this man. Would defy death the same way that Keith would do, and has done, for him.   
But he wants to go the fuck back to sleep and Keith is already talking about their meetings for the morning.   
“So you’ll be talking to the Coalition, I’ll go brief the Blades and have a walk-n-talk with Kolivan, Ulaz, Thace, and Antok before we head to the joint meeting. Then at 1300 hours you’re going to start the meeting and can you make sure-”  
“Baby.” He says after a long pull of coffee. Even Kosmo looks sympathetic for him right now.  
“Yeah?” Keith asks, stripping out of his sweaty clothes for a shower.   
Shiro sighs. Kosmo tilts his head. At least he gets to see Keiths ass first thing in the morning, it almost makes being awake at 0500 hours bearable, “I love you. You’re gonna be great.”   
Keith smiles, “Are you gonna join me or should I save some hot water for you?”   
Shiro is more than willing to drag himself out of bed for that. Kosmo huffs in annoyance when Shiro nudges his head out of his lap with minimal pats.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/yolkswagen2)!


End file.
